Handwritten thank-you cards from your child.

Teachers really do love to hear things from students aside from, “But we also have a Navi test that day!” and “You’re blocking the board.” A sincere note from your child is a treasure, and specifics are welcome. Favorite lesson? Best day? Complimenting the teacher’s hilarious jokes? Go for it.

Cookies.

Teaching is hungry work, and sometimes, we do run out of pastries. Walking around with your salad calling, “Wanna trade?” is frowned upon once you’re an adult. Your cookies can be home baked in bulk, and your child can even do the work. (Your child is perfect. They’ll be happy to bake.) And if they read ‘tsp of salt’ as tablespoon, well… at least their class isn’t the one the teacher is walking into next.

A gift card for a coffee shop.

A five-dollar bill feels a little paltry. A five-dollar gift card to a trendy clothing store might get her a button. (Half a button, if you live near me.) But when it’s for a coffee, that’s perfectly respectable.

Typical Kid: My child has their moments,  but can still score the “pleasure to have in class” in report card comments if theirs is near the bottom of the pile.

Chocolate.

This can go into the “perfect angel” range as well, depending on your budget. You can’t go wrong with chocolate. Someone in every house likes chocolate. The danger is when everyone in the house likes chocolate, and there are only four chocolates in the box. (Teacher trick: there was no chocolate. There was only you, parked in the driveway, and then the box was mysteriously empty when you came inside.)

Judaica.

No, I don’t mean “buy your teacher a sefer Torah.” (Save that for Purim, when you rear-end her car while pulling away from her house in gridlocked traffic.) There are other items that won’t create clutter and might actually be used. Inexpensive but useful: a match cloche. My absolute favorite: a set of four seasonal besamim jars I was gifted a few years ago. (Winter is minty fresh, autumn smells like cinnamon, summer is classic besamim, and spring reeks like a pollen allergy.)

Useful household items.

I mean, it’s a little weird to give a teacher a peeler, even during latke season. But one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten was a high-quality skimmer. At the time, it might have been mildly humiliating for the student who handed me a spatula in front of the class. Something to keep in mind, perhaps. I think I’ll still be engaging in that public humiliation for my children this year. Maybe I’ll include a note from my monogrammed notepad.

Notepads.

Monogramming stuff is the best. But teacher houses are already packed with paper — old tests and essays and stacks of ancient permission slips, just in case poor Mindel Sora suddenly realizes in adulthood that the time she tripped at the planetarium in third grade is why she now has chronic back pain. So if you’re going to monogram something, it should be either very small or very useful.

Class Clown: My child is single-handedly responsible for the bump in Excedrin’s stock this year.

Decorative household items.

Who doesn’t want a monogrammed Lucite hafrashas challah stand to keep on their kitchen counter at all times? These are teachers, making the big bucks — they definitely have massive kitchens with space to spare. But in the rare case that the teacher has a tiny kitchen or no time to make challah, consider a serving bowl or pitcher, or even some nice dish towels. Everyone likes dish towels. Monogram them so your child’s teacher can appreciate the post-washing silence that she doesn’t get in the classroom.

Thoughtful touches.

It’s winter. Why not get the teacher some gloves? There’s an 85 percent chance that the classroom thermostat hasn’t stabilized, mostly because the students (odds are high that includes your child, most chaotic of all) like to hang out the open windows of the school, shouting greetings to passersby. A cookbook is a nice gift — a friendly reminder to every teacher that no matter how exhausting the classroom is, they’ve still got to cook for Shabbos tonight. On second thought, maybe just send over some cookies. Or a roast chicken.

On the Verge: My child is one parent-principal meeting away from hunting for a new school.

Cold, hard cash.

In the end, you probably won’t knock anything off the teacher’s wish list. (It’s a yearly subscription to Mishpacha. Do it! Do it now!) Maybe it’s jewelry. Maybe it’s a specific brand of pen. Maybe it’s two boxes of diapers from Target. If you genuinely want the teacher to have something useful, then nothing else does the job quite as well.

Your child not featured?

Any item is welcome. Teachers just like to know that you don’t hate ’em. Any gift might be the thing that this particular teacher loves best. So send over your diffusers and mugs and key chains — it’s the sentiment that matters most.

And save your chocolate for me. I’ll take care of it in the driveway.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 924)